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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24763912">silence is compliance.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fayre/pseuds/fayre'>fayre</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(individual fic's tags are included in each chapter's author notes!), Established Relationship, Feel-good, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot Collection, Various AUs, but a brief overview is:</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:55:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,122</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24763912</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fayre/pseuds/fayre</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You make no fuckin’ sense to me,” Guan Shan mutters. Then: “When are you plannin' to leave my house?”</p><p>“Ouch,” He Tian remarks in an empty but unsurprised tone, shifting back on the couch. After a moment, he shrugs and responds, “Depends. Your text said a week but your mom says forever.”</p><p>A scowl. “She didn’t fuckin’ say that.”</p><p>He Tian smiles. “No, she didn’t. But she did say as long as I wanted — which, really, isn’t that much different from forever.”</p><p> </p><p>(or: a collection of tianshan oneshots, written for a tumblr fundraiser in support of the Black Lives Matter movement. individual tags are included in each chapter's author notes.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>He Tian/Mo Guanshan (19 Days)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>356</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. movie star & bodyguard AU</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this oneshot, as well as all subsequent oneshots, have been written for individuals on tumblr following their generous donations to a variety of BLM charities/fundraisers. if you would like more information regarding this project, please see my <a href="https://nightfayre.tumblr.com/post/619677511946780672">tumblr post.</a> while all these oneshots are available on my tumblr (@nightfayre), I am posting them to AO3 for easier access and archival reasons (is that not what this website is for? haha!)</p><p> </p><p><b>chapter tags:</b> tianshan, rated T, movie star and bodyguard AU, fluff &amp; comfort, established relationship, kisses and care :)</p><p><b>prompt:</b> Guan Shan (China’s biggest movie star) and He Tian (his head bodyguard) in the car on the way to an awards ceremony.</p><p>this chapter is dedicated to Bethan @agapaic on tumblr / @powerandpathos on AO3. a special thanks to Zack @i-got-these-words on tumblr / @i_got_these_words on AO3 for beta'ing!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“Have everything?”</p><p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Yeah.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>At He Tian’s tilted look, Guan Shan has no choice but to humor him. He pats himself down in one last rundown: wallet, lanyard, phone. His speech is crumpled up in his pocket, nearly forgotten, and his manager had gone ahead to the car with his suit jacket thirty minutes prior.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p><em>Appease the crowd, </em>she explained when he asked why. <em>Fans love seeing you when you’re not put together. Gives it more flavor, the unkempt look.</em></p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>And he had rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop her from bouncing out the door with the hanger, telling him to hurry up or they’d be late. Since then, the hair and makeup staff have packed up and slipped out the back door of the hotel — but now, the last two in the suite, Guan Shan scowls as He Tian refuses to move from in front of him.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“What?”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Are you <em>sure</em> you have everything?” He Tian asks again, pointed.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Guan Shan frowns; tries not to notice how well He Tian’s suit sits on his broad shoulders, dark blue cashmere bringing out the slate-colored tint to his eyes. Guan Shan had it custom-made for him, but he didn’t realize it would be this fucking flashy. He should’ve known better.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“What’s your problem?” Guan Shan asks, stubbornly maintaining eye contact.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“We don’t have time to fight our way back to the room if you leave anything behind. Not like last time.” He Tian one-ups him. “Do you have the speech?”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Yes, I have the fuckin’ speech.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Show it to me.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Guan Shan gives him a look, jaw set. He reaches into his pocket. “I don’t know why you have to be so goddamn—“</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>A pause. He knows without looking that He Tian is wearing that god-awful smirk as Guan Shan’s hand comes up empty.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Shut the fuck up,” Guan Shan mutters even as He Tian says nothing. He turns on his heel to grab the piece of paper lying innocuously on the nightstand, scowling.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Speech <em>actually</em> in hand this time, Guan Shan refuses to look at him as he stomps out the door He Tian holds open for him.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“We’re on our way down,” He Tian reports into his earpiece, following. His smile is amused. “Clear the lobby.”</p>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The screams become muted when Guan Shan closes the car door, giving one last wave to the crowd through the tinted windows. Even now, the front-most group of paparazzi try to snap final pictures, held back by the infallible stature of the bodyguards. It’s a moment longer until He Tian can round the back of the car and climb into the seat next to him, all grace and composure. He signals a guard outside, and the men start to push the crowd back to give the car space.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As they pull away from the hotel’s porte-cochère, Guan Shan sighs, leaning back against the leather headrest and letting the engine rumble his skull.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How long is the drive?” he asks, taking the proffered bottle of water his manager hands to him from the passenger seat.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Ten minutes,” she says, tapping the GPS screen. Their driver gives her an irritated look, but she ignores it. “The venue’s central to the city. I suggest you read over your speech in the time being. Refresh your memory and whatnot.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We don’t even know if the film will win a damn thing,” Guan Shan gripes. He pulls out the wrinkled paper from his pocket; the handwriting is neat and aligned, just like his manager. He’s too afraid to tell her he’d only read it for the first time the night before. “It really wasn’t that groundbreaking.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sure it will,” she assures him. “And if not Best Picture, then you’ll get Best Actor. They’d be a fool to not award at least one of the two.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan raises a brow. “Three years ago you told me not to get cocky.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Cockiness comes from an oversized ego,” she says, turning to give him a wink. “Confidence comes from proven experience.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan smirks. Beyond the car window, the cityscape whips by. Tall buildings and public art figures cut through the throng of pedestrians and cast cool shadows in the November afternoon. They’ve got some American pop song playing low over the car’s speakers, but the silence nags him. He looks over to He Tian.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Glad to see my private, salaried, head bodyguard is hard at work,” he says dryly as He Tian thumbs down his phone screen. The bright blue of Twitter is unmistakable. “The fuck are you smilin’ at?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He Tian glances up at him, eyes devilish. He hums. “You’re losing your touch, Mr. Mo,” he says, handing over his phone with a self-satisfied lift of his mouth. Frowning, Guan Shan takes it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Christ. Already, #GoldenRoosterAwards is trending number one in China, and beneath it lies #MoGuanShan among countless other actors and actresses. He swallows down the uncertainty of seeing his name so casually tossed to the top of the ranks — <em>(Shouldn’t he be used to it by now?)</em> — and instead flicks the screen to the recent posts.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He scowls.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Posted two minutes ago: A picture of He Tian, face set stern and focused, walking through the hotel lobby with a hand in his pocket and long legs mid-stride. The edges of his suit flip in the breeze just right and the natural light makes his skin glow. #holyshit #takemehome #lockmeup #MoMysteryGuard</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Posted four minutes ago: A picture of He Tian and Guan Shan, the latter waving to a young girl by the hotel’s columns, but a second picture zoomed in on the wide, ring-laden hand He Tian uses to guide Guan Shan toward the car and deter the paparazzi from getting too close. #ohmygod #couldntstopstaring #chokemedaddy #momysteryguard</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Posted five minutes ago: A seven-second video of He Tian pulling the car door open for Guan Shan, leaning down to say something to him inaudible over the sound of the crowd — (“Are you sure you have the speech?”  “Shut <em>up, </em>idiot.”) — and his arm resting lazily on the hood of the car as he smirks and steps back to let Guan Shan pull the door closed. #ohmygodheSMILED #hessoTall #theressomethingbetweenthosetwo #Ijustknowit #whatweretheysaying? #flirting????? #godIjustwanttoknowhisNAME #MoMysteryGuard</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan tosses the phone back to him with a grimace.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You know, your shoulders should hurt from carrying so much fuckin’ weight on them,” he mutters. “I didn’t realize we were still in junior high <em>popularity contests.”</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He Tian shrugs, but his grin suggests anything but nonchalance. “It’s okay if you’re jealous. You <em>are</em> the one repping your stylist’s new clothing line, after all. We couldn’t have known that my street-side suit would steal the show. A tragedy, really.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>It wasn’t just the suit.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Keep talkin’ and you’ll be unemployed.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He Tian laughs. “Haven’t I heard that line before?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes,” the manager interjects from the front, voice dulled. “For the past two years of my dreaded life, you two have had this exact conversation. Can’t you be a little more creative?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Maybe I’ll actually do it this time,” Guan Shan grumbles, but he hears the lie in his own words. “The plot twist we all saw comin’.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He Tian smiles at him, the light from the sunroof bringing out the hazel hue in his hair. “It’d be the biggest scandal Twitter and Weibo have ever seen. <em>‘Mo Guan Shan fires his Mystery Guard!’</em>. Fuck, the <em>theories</em> that would spill. You would never be able to—“</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He stops mid-sentence, the smile dropping. He Tian looks ahead, focused, and Guan Shan sees his bluetooth earpiece blink as he listens to the voice on the other end.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After a moment, He Tian brings up his hand, fingers pressing into the receiver. “Got it. We’re three minutes out.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Leaning forward, he puts a hand on the driver’s shoulder.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“When we get there, go around to the east side of the venue. You’ll see someone with a green vest who’ll wave us in. Follow them.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Then he leans back, switching from Twitter to Messages on his phone and typing out what Guan Shan can only assume to be more orders. He’s never really gotten used to it yet — the way He Tian can switch mindsets so easily, so effortlessly. Some days, Guan Shan is convinced it should’ve been <em>him</em> reaching the A-list, signing off portraits at meet-and-greets, rehearsing roles at three in the morning and meeting at sets four hours later with two cups of coffee. If nothing else, He Tian would be great at giving the people what they want.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But by a sour turn of events in the universe, Guan Shan had taken his place. Stolen his spotlight. Still, it’s not as though the universe has given up trying to restore what should have been, if the #MoMysteryGuard following has anything to say about it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“A group of fans broke into the wing we were supposed to enter from,” He Tian explains as he types, conscious of the way Guan Shan has been looking at him. “Not a big deal, but we might as well take precautions and avoid causing a scene.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Suddenly, Guan Shan is hit with the feeling of <em>fuck, I don’t want to be here.</em> He looks out the window; watches as the streets become more crowded, some areas blocked off to the general public, the distant flashing of cameras as they drive by. He craves a bowl of ramen, a cup of hot tea. He wants to be at home, lounging on a day off, sweatshirt and sweatpants that he’d take a selfie in just to keep his social media alive.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But then he’d put his phone face-down on the coffee table. He’d pick up a controller and mindlessly play some video games under the guise of a username. He’d invite He Tian over. Let him stay the night. Let him in his bed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They don’t have roles to fulfill when it’s just them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The car passes through a gate. Soon the city is separated from them by grass and a stone path the car rumbles along, coming around the bend of the massive host stadium. Signs and decorative lights welcome them, but it only serves to make Guan Shan’s head feel tight.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As He Tian said, a successive line of workers in green vests wave them toward the back parking lots, occasionally stopping the car to check their credentials. It’s quieter back here than it was at the face of the venue, and Guan Shan unbuckles as the car eventually slows to a stop in a private garage. Already, he can hear the low thrum of music and chatter coming from within the building.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Here you are,” his manager singsongs, handing him his suit jacket, still in the garment bag, before he can even fully exit the vehicle. “Make sure you drink water, and watch that grumpy face of yours when you walk in. You know what happened last time; I don’t want to deal with another Weibo blast. Keep your head up and mind your posture. Greet everyone you recognize, but don’t spend too much time with your new costars. Be kind to the interviewers. And watch what you say if they ask you about your upcoming projects, because if you leak another spoiler we are going to be in <em>deep shit</em> and you’re not gonna—“</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>“Okay,</em> okay, I already know,” Guan Shan insists, tugging at the zipper on the garment bag. A scowl has found a home in his brows. Maybe it’s his shirt collar, but it’s a little hard to breathe. “Just— give me a moment, okay?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She looks at him for a long while, then sighs.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s gonna be one of those nights, huh? Fair enough. I’ll wait by the door.” She pats him on the shoulder, sympathetic. “Take a breather. You’ve got this, honey.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With that, she leaves. Guan Shan tries not to watch her go, lest guilt eat at him any more than it already does. But as the bag crinkles in his hands, it’s hard to ignore the figure of He Tian leaned against the trunk of the car, watching him intently.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Finally pulling the jacket free, Guan Shan sneers, “Why don’t you go entertain the crowd with your beloved street-side fashion, Mystery Guard?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s a pause, then He Tian smirks. He pushes off the car, reaching out to pull the jacket from Guan Shan’s hands. Then he holds it open, expectant. Frowning, Guan Shan slips his arms into the holes, letting He Tian help him shrug it on.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You know,” He Tian says at his back, “I think I like you more when you’re jealous than when you’re nervous.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t want to do this shit.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It comes out too easily. Too fast. But it’s not the job — the projects. No, he’d known what acting would entail since his theatre courses in senior high. He’s never been so passionate, and so sure.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Rather, it’s <em>this</em> shit: the socializing, the glorification, the embellished appearances. The dead-eyed smile into the cameras because you’d only gotten so much sleep last night after someone accused you of a scandal on social media and the rest of the world fell in step because it’s <em>easy.</em> He loves having an audience, but only when they’re watching him in a role he’s supposed to be in. A character he’s prepared and perfected. Not one he’s been forced into and must constantly doubt.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But he’s not sure if all that comes across in his words; his mouth often working faster than his mind. Guan Shan only has a moment to ponder regret because, suddenly, He Tian is stepping in front of him. His ear piece dangles from his collar, removed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know,” He Tian assures, fixing the collar of Guan Shan’s blazer, smoothing down wrinkles in his tie. “But if you’re out of the job, so am I. Don’t be fucking selfish. You know I can’t do anything else.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan can’t help the way his mouth twitches, an almost-not smile.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He Tian’s hands slide down the front of Guan Shan, following the curve of bone and muscle beneath layers of expensive, ornate fabric. They settle on his waist, and their eyes find each other.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Four hours for the awards,” He Tian murmurs, “two hours for the after party, and one hour drive back to Beijing. Then you can shower and call your mom and we’ll watch a movie while you cook us something delicious.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan scoffs. “While <em>I</em> cook? Aren’t you supposed to be the one offerin’?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do <em>you</em> want to deal with the fire department after a long night like this?” He Tian smirks, warm. “Besides, I’ll be too busy admiring all the awards you’ll bring home.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Home.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, because you worked really fuckin’ hard to earn them,” Guan Shan mumbles.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A laugh, quiet. Then He Tian kisses him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s slow, and quiet, and maybe dangerous given the time and place but Guan Shan thinks that he can postpone the scolding for now. Instead he indulges in it, selfish, hand coming up to He Tian’s jaw, fingers resting against his cheek. It’s a promise, he knows. The feel of He Tian’s hands on his hips is grounding, and he wonders if this is what #chokemedaddy had in mind when she cropped her picture for the Twitter clout.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He Tian pulls back. “What’s funny?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Nothing,” Guan Shan says, his smile small. “But I do have to go. I’ll see you after.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Wait,” He Tian says, grabbing him as he turns, and his voice is so serious it almost makes Guan Shan’s stomach drop through with fear. Their eyes lock intensely. Guan Shan’s heart dies in his chest.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He Tian says, low: “Are you sure you have the speech?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan hits him on the arm, hard enough to bruise tomorrow morning. He Tian only winces slightly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I hate you,” Guan Shan says, pulling away. “Like, actually. And guess what, asshole?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Smiling, He Tian says, “What?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t need it,” Guan Shan says. He pulls out and flicks the crumpled paper to He Tian’s chest. “I didn’t memorize it. I’m just gonna improvise.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well,” He Tian says. “It’s a good thing you’re in showbiz, now isn’t it?”</p>
  <p> </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank you for reading! </p><p>feedback would mean the world :)</p><p>find me on <a href="https://nightfayre.tumblr.com">tumblr!</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. date night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><b>chapter tags:</b> tianshan, rated T, slight hurt/comfort, general fluff, domestic AU, established relationship, anniversary, He Tian is a sweetheart :')</p><p><b>prompt:</b> A begrudging Guan Shan and an adamant He Tian go on a date. </p><p>this chapter is dedicated to Emma @plumb19!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
<p></p><div class=""><p> </p><p>They were supposed to be in Shenzhen Central Park by now.</p></div><div class=""><p>He Tian had the day planned to a T. Guan Shan didn’t really understand it, but he knew the park was special to He Tian. Something about the boats, and the trees, and a kite that went missing — but, more importantly, something about his mother. He Tian told him that he’d gone with her to Shenzhen only a handful of times before she died, but they were the only memories of his childhood that he could recall so clearly. Guan Shan suspected that they were the only memories He Tian <em>wanted</em> to recall, but he knew better than to say that out loud. </p></div><div class=""><p>So he took him to the grocery store the night before. Bought all the ingredients they’d need for spring rolls and spicy pork and egg tarts and anything else Guan Shan saw fit for a picnic. They’d grabbed a bag of grapes, some strawberries, a half-gallon of sweet tea — and Guan Shan had rolled his eyes and swept the bag of shrimp chips He Tian stared at but wouldn’t admit he wanted into the cart. </p></div><div class=""><p>The cart was half full by the time they reached checkout. Watching the total come up on the register made Guan Shan’s mouth go a little dry, even as He Tian paid for it. </p></div><div class=""><p>“You know,” Guan Shan said afterwards as they walked out the automatic sliding doors, plastic bags in hand, “I don’t think six month anniversaries are supposed to be this fuckin’ expensive.”</p></div><div class=""><p>And He Tian had looked at him a little sideways because it had taken a week to convince Guan Shan that anniversaries are worth celebrating, much less <em>acknowledging,</em> and the look on his face said that he wasn’t about to let some green digits on a screen get in the way of their day. </p></div><div class=""><p>“Don’t worry about it,” He Tian said, nonchalant. “We’ll only max out the credit card by the time one year rolls around.”</p></div><div class=""><p><em>“If</em> one year rolls around,” Guan Shan grumbled, but his ears had already turned pink at the sure promise of continuance. He Tian smiled long enough after that to earn a shove. </p></div></div><div class="">
  <p>Twenty minutes later they returned back to He Tian’s place and set the bags on the kitchen counters. He Tian started shifting through the recipes Guan Shan had printed while Guan Shan began washing the veggies. And when He Tian tried to move to the pantry to get the oil and flour, they knocked elbows and bumped hips because this new place was smaller and cozier than his old apartment, but He Tian never complained because he said this is what he wanted. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“A new beginning,” he’d explained when Guan Shan saw it for the first time, a little wide-eyed with disbelief. “Less… empty. Our footsteps won’t echo, at least.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Now, He Tian had to reach over him to place the sugar by the cutting board, and Guan Shan had to put a hand between He Tian’s shoulder blades as he shuffled around him to get to the fridge. But they worked mostly side-by-side — Guan Shan keeping a close eye on He Tian’s cutting technique and stove top skills — and, unbidden, it reminded Guan Shan of home. The hum of his mother, the simmer of her frying pan. Long weekends of his childhood spent with honey sticky on his fingers and flour streaked on his cheek. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But now he was older, moved out, separated by a half-hour long train ride. He missed her, sometimes. But these days her laughter was replaced by He Tian’s, and her hums by He Tian’s unconscious mumbling as he read the recipe directions, and her warmth by the way He Tian smiled, proud, when Guan Shan was surprised by his improving mincing abilities. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“The bare minimum,” Guan Shan mumbled, sweeping the cut onions into the pan with the edge of a knife. “You still have a lot to learn, idiot.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And you still have a lot to teach,” He Tian replied, nosing into the slope of Guan Shan’s neck from behind, and eventually Guan Shan had to shoo him away before he caused him to get distracted and burn the damned food. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Like that, the evening passed quickly. It took most of the night, but they eventually finished, wrapped the food in saran wrap, and placed the dishes into separate containers for ease of transportation the next day. They cleaned the kitchen and dishes, arguing over why it was better to hand-wash dishes (Guan Shan) versus just throw them in the dishwasher and call it a day (He Tian). And then they fell into He Tian’s bed, smelling of garlic and sugar, and drifted into sleep while streaming Tencent videos from He Tian’s tablet. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It had gone as planned. Everything was prepared and, for once, falling perfectly into place. Guan Shan woke up the morning of their anniversary feeling warm and satisfied despite his previous convictions. He pressed his lips to He Tian’s bare shoulder and quietly slipped out of his arms to go shower, water running warm. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But it wasn’t until he emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, hair a bit damp and wearing He Tian’s shirt, did he realize he had stupidly let his hopes get too high. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Somethin’ wrong?” Guan Shan asked, approaching where He Tian stood at the glass doors to the balcony, hand holding the curtain to the side.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But He Tian didn’t need to answer. Guan Shan saw the skies, and his stomach twisted in a way that made him feel empty. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“The forecast must have changed,” He Tian said. There was something to his voice that tightened Guan Shan’s chest, looking out over the darkened clouds and the low rumble of threatening rain that he hadn’t heard before. “I checked, and it’s supposed to last all day.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>Of course it fuckin’ will, </em>Guan Shan thought bitterly. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Out loud, he said: “Well, what’re we gonna do?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He Tian didn’t respond at first, observing the gloomy cityscape. Guan Shan couldn’t see his face, which only served to make him more uncertain. It was the same feeling he had back in middle school when He Tian caught sight of She Li, or when He Tian flashed a sharp, silent smile after Guan Shan said, “Make me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But this silence was different — more telling in ways that He Tian wouldn’t have let slip five years ago. More. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He responded when drizzle began hitting the window panes, dripping off the overhang of the bedroom balcony. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We can try tomorrow. The food should last.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With that, he let the curtain fall back into place. The bedroom was shrouded into a kind of shadowed dimness that weighed heavily on Guan Shan’s shoulders. Face unreadable, He Tian turned and walked out to the common area without casting Guan Shan even a single look. Guan Shan heard the familiar sound of a chair being pulled out at the desk in his work area. After a minute, the muted sound of typing on a computer keyboard. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And that was that. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan wasn’t sure what to think. To do. After all, <em>He Tian</em> had been the one so dead-set on making something out of this day, to give it some kind of importance that Guan Shan never thought was fucking necessary because wasn’t it enough to just be <em>together?</em> Wasn’t it enough to have safety in security?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Wasn’t Guan Shan himself enough?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>Apparently not,</em> Guan Shan concluded, because He Tian had that infuriatingly blank face as he worked on his computer and the food they’d spent hours making the night before was going stale in the fridge. Because, obviously, Guan Shan was to be ignored when the weather forecast turned out to be faulty. Because, apparently, the artificial, tangible <em>idea</em> of a symbolic and surface-level picnic in Shenzhen was <em>so important</em> that the day’s occasion itself was forgotten when the picnic couldn’t be had. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan snatched a blanket from the bed and went to the balcony, slamming the door behind him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The cushion on the patio chair was only slightly damp. Guan Shan settled into it, bare feet lifted to rest on the small round table, knees pulled up. The blanket did little to ward off the chill of the rain-thick breeze that brushed across the open balcony, but he held it close around his shoulders nonetheless. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The wind blew just right; the rain was pushed away from where he sat. He watched drops of water fall from the overhang, and he watched the fog crawl through the buildings like a stalking predator. Everything looked gray, sucked of color and warmth beneath the storm, a picture of black and white that Guan Shan looked upon with a strangling sense of detachment. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>On a rational level, he knew he shouldn’t be angry. He hadn’t even wanted to do anything to begin with. He was content with staying inside, watching movies, playing card games, maybe baking something sweet just for the hell of it. If nothing else, his reluctance was saved by the bell by impromptu weather. He should be relieved from the burden of hauling everything to the park just to have to haul it back afterwards. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But He Tian had been so adamant on spending the day out — at this park from his childhood of broken memories and a broken family. Eventually, Guan Shan couldn’t refuse after so many half-hearted arguments. Who was he to shut down He Tian’s passion when that’s exactly what Guan Shan <em>wanted</em> from him after so many years?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But, as it turns out, He Tian was as self-destructive as Guan Shan had always been. Really, he shouldn’t have been surprised. It should have been everything he expected. They shouldn’t have tried something as trivial as this. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The thought didn’t make the dull pain in his chest hurt any less. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He stayed out there for half an hour. The morning sun tried to break through the overcast, and Guan Shan watched it fail over and over again. The edges of his blanket began to feel damp, and his toes were becoming numb in the wind. And he tried not to think about how quiet it was inside the apartment. How still. He Tian would likely sit there at his desk all day, working like a machine, and Guan Shan convinced himself that he didn’t give a damn if he did. If that’s how the day — <em>their</em> day — was meant to be spent, so be it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan closed his eyes. Listened to the patter of rain. Wondered if maybe he should just go home after all, and forget this ever happened.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Then the sliding door opened. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Guan Shan.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A pause. Guan Shan, with his eyes still closed, said, “What.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Another pause. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Come inside. It’s cold.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ve been managin’ just fine for the past half hour.” Then, dry: “How’s work?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A sigh. Guan Shan heard He Tian shift on his feet. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Come inside,” He Tian said. “I have something for you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Not interested.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I think you will be.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan flared, scowling. “I said I’m not fuckin’—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sorry, Ah-Shan.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan stopped. After a moment, He Tian sighed and continued. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I overreacted,” he said, low. “I was disappointed, but not with you, and I don’t want you to be disappointed in me, either. Not today.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan opened his eyes as he felt a hand brush his hair; fingers trace the shell of his ear. He Tian stood next to him, head tilted. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Come in,” he said again when Guan Shan finally looked at him. Then he turned and walked inside. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Throat feeling tight, Guan Shan got up and followed. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He didn’t see it at first, eyes still adjusting to the dim state of the apartment. He tossed the blanket to the bed as he walked to where He Tian waited, just outside the bedroom, and looked up as He Tian moved aside for him to see. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And then Guan Shan went quiet. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He Tian had moved the furniture. The couch was pushed as far back as possible, and the armchairs positioned neatly in the corners of the common room. The flatscreen was on, volume low, playing some episode of an Animal Planet series, and the curtains were pulled open to let in some soft light alongside the earthy, fresh smell of rain coming in from the cracked windows. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And in the center of the open floor area lay a blanket, spread out wide, adorned with throw pillows from the couch and the soft, spare blankets Guan Shan’s mother had gifted him last Christmas. There were cups and plates and chopsticks, and the food they’d made the night before had been opened and reheated, waiting. The sweet tea had been chilled, and the fruit washed and placed in a bowl. There was the rice cooker and a container of freshly popped popcorn and the shrimp chips he definitely didn’t want last night. He Tian had pulled in the extension cords so their phone and laptop chargers were within reach of the makeshift picnic, and looking closer Guan Shan could see that he’d set up the gaming console, the controllers lying neatly on the edge of the setup. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Best of both worlds,” He Tian said, frowning a little. “This isn’t what I had in mind, but we’ll have to make do. And I know you said you didn’t want to do anything, but we made all that food and you put in a lot of work, like always—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He Tian,” Guan Shan interrupted, shaking his head, “this is fine. It’s— more than fine. And I… yeah, I’m sorry, too. I know you were lookin’ forward to visitin’ the park again after all these years.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He Tian rubbed at his neck. “We can still go tomorrow, if you’re up to it. But we can’t redo today.” He paused. “That was… a dick move, on my part.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah,” Guan Shan said, struggling to hide his surprise, his <em>shock, </em>searching for the entitled, aggressive, and impulsive fifteen-year-old boy that he’d known for so long but was only just starting to forget, “it was.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And with that he walked forward and settled down on the blanket. The rug made the setup soft — or at least, softer than it would have been on hard earth and grass. He’d already claimed two pillows for back support and was picking his preferred blanket from the pile when He Tian joined him, passing him a plate and utensils. Quiet, Guan Shan poured them tea as He Tian split up portions of food. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Tomorrow,” He Tian said, scooping white rice from the cooker, “I want to take you on a Shenzhen paddleboat. My mother and I used to rent the same one each time we went, and just lay out in the middle of the lake for hours.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan pictured it. Smirked. “That... doesn’t sound like somethin’ you’d do.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He Tian shrugged. “Normally, no. Hated it every time, actually. The bugs and heat were annoying, the water was murky. And I always got sunburned.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Legs folding under him, Guan Shan regarded him strangely. “Why the hell did you go, then?” he asked. “And why would you want to go <em>back?”</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But when He Tian looked at him, it was with a raw sort of warmth that held the ghosts of the past in his gaze, though Guan Shan had reason to believe that they didn’t haunt him like they used to. They certainly didn’t control him like they used to. Guan Shan only had to run his hand across the blankets and feel the warmth of the bowls against his legs to know that He Tian had come so far, and that he’d done it, mostly, for them. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Now, He Tian handed Guan Shan his plate. He said, “It was less about the condition of the park and more about spending time with the person I loved.” His eyes roamed the plane of Guan Shan’s face, fond. “It still is.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan pushed down the heat threatening to swarm his face, his neck. His heart, however, he let beat wildly. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Pushing He Tian’s cup in his hand, Guan Shan ignored the serene, complacent smile on He Tian’s lips.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Happy six months, asshole,” he mumbled.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He Tian leaned in close. “Happy six months, sweetheart.”</p>
  <p> </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank you for reading!</p><p>feedback would mean the world :)</p><p>find me on <a href="https://nightfayre.tumblr.com">tumblr!</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. quarantine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><b>chapter tags:</b> tianshan, rated T, quarantine AU, domestic fluff, unestablished relationship, the boys are canon age (middle school), He Tian is a fucking tease</p>
<p><b>prompt:</b> tianshan quarantine fluff, aka "why the hell am I stuck in a house with you all day every day?"</p>
<p>this chapter is dedicated to Ayobami @tps31!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p> </p>
    <p>Guan Shan hates this. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>The laundry basket next to his. The pair of shoes at the front door. The extra toothbrush in his bathroom, and the second phone charger plugged in next to his bed. There’s a gray duffel bag taking up the corner of his bedroom and a black jacket draped over the back of his desk chair. None of it takes up too much space, carefully put into their respective places and never crossing the boundary, but—</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Guan Shan hates it.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>And, what’s worse: he never <em>asked</em> for this. He was stupid enough to mention He Tian’s name at the dinner table one night; a passing comment he hadn’t really thought about. But then his mother had paused with a spoonful of miso soup at her lips, pensive.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“He Tian,” she’d echoed, as if the name felt foreign but sweet on her tongue. “Isn’t that the one who lives near the center of the city? The one who lives alone? The tall and polite and handsome one of your friends?”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Uh,” Guan Shan had said, smirking with distaste. “Yeah. Sure. That one.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Poor thing. Alone throughout all of this mess.” She sighed. “Why does he not live with his family?”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>And Guan Shan had thought about it for a moment, sifting through his mind like pressing rewind on a VHS. “I don’t know,” he’d admitted, reaching for the soy sauce. “Never asked.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She nodded, thinking. “Well, you should invite him over, then.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Guan Shan choked. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Oblivious, his mother had continued: “Have him stay a few nights. No one should be left alone throughout this entire period. Who knows how long this will last, what with how many cases that have been reported. He’ll go stir crazy by himself, poor soul.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“He’s <em>already</em> stir crazy,” Guan Shan said, eyes watering from a dislodged grain of rice. “I don’t want him here, ma. I’ll literally do anythin’ else. Seriously.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She’d given him a disappointed look. “Ah-Shan, I thought I raised you to have a little more compassion than that.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Trust me, a person like him doesn’t need <em>compassion.”</em></p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Now, you don’t know that,” she reprimanded. She tapped her chopsticks against her bowl, succinct. “After we finish dinner, you should reach out to him and invite him to spend the week with us.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“A <em>week?”</em></p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Well, now that school is postponed and I’m working from home, wouldn’t it be nice to have company for a bit?”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Ma, <em>please—“</em></p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“You will text him, Ah-Shan. No excuses. The world needs kindness right now, and we will do whatever we can to contribute to it.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>And that, unfortunately, was that. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>That night, Guan Shan deleted the message immediately after he sent it, as if that would erase it out of his memory, too. But it was hard to forget the string of skeptical yet <em>blaringly</em> enthusiastic string of response texts that followed the invite, and even harder to forget the sight of He Tian at their front door half an hour later, duffel bag slung over his shoulder and smile bright as he greeted Guan Shan’s mother with practiced sweetness and feigned gratitude. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Guan Shan hated it. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>But as his mother shot him a warning look, Guan Shan couldn’t do anything about it. Couldn’t just ignore him like he did, sometimes, at school.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>And now, five days in, there’s a knock at the bathroom door. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Little Mo, are you naked?”</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Running a towel over his hair, Guan Shan scowls at his reflection in the mirror, still foggy from the steam. “Fuck off, chickenshit.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m kidding.” He can hear the smile in He Tian’s voice. “I just need to brush my teeth.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Then you can wait.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s been twenty minutes, sweetheart. Are your showers usually this long?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s an <em>average</em> fuckin’ time for showers!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A hum, muffled by the closed door. “Really? Mine only take ten, and that’s generous considering the precious amount of time I spend washing my—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The thunk of the lotion bottle against the door rattles its hinges. <em>“Fuck off!”</em> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He waits until he hears He Tian’s footsteps recede. Guan Shan hates that he knows He Tian is walking away with that smug-as-all-hell smile, satisfied. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He dresses quickly after that, doing his best to ignore the citrus-scented face wash by the faucet and the contact lens case by the hand soap. The first time he’d seen all of He Tian’s things laid out like this on his bathroom counter was something like a revelation. It was like some things clicked into place, unbidden. Now it makes sense why Guan Shan sometimes thinks he catches a whiff of lemonade every time He Tian gets too close, and why He Tian looks like he’s scowling whenever he reads but, really, it’s just because he’s blind as a fucking bat and has to squint to see fine print. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>If nothing else, Guan Shan suspects at least <em>something</em> valuable might come out of all this time he’s forced to spend together with He Tian — (read: blackmail) — but then again, He Tian hasn’t commented on the old, stained state of Guan Shan’s pillow like Guan Shan thought he would because he’s used it since he was four and can’t really sleep well if he’s not using <em>that specific</em> pillow. And he also hasn’t said anything about the way Guan Shan jumps, sometimes, when the toaster springs up his toast in the mornings because he never fucking sees it coming and it — <em>sometimes</em> — causes him to drop his jam knife.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>A stalemate,</em> Guan Shan supposes as he pulls his shirt over his head. Except, deep down, he knows that He Tian probably isn’t even aware that such a concept exists. After all, what would He Tian be if not someone to fight ‘til a broken victor is left standing? </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>By the time Guan Shan walks out into the living room, it’s ten o’clock. His mother, having finished washing the dishes because Guan Shan made dinner, is nowhere in sight, likely huddled up in her bedroom with a book like she always does before bed. That leaves He Tian alone on the couch, casually flipping through TV stations in a t-shirt and sweats, and he doesn’t see Guan Shan at first when the latter turns the corner. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Bathroom’s open, dipshit,” Guan Shan mutters. He Tian looks up as Guan Shan approaches, settling on the opposite end of the couch.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“About time.” He Tian tosses Guan Shan the remote, and he barely catches it before it smacks against his chest. Standing, He Tian smiles and says, “Find something good to watch by the time I get back, okay?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t <em>work</em> at your beck and call,” Guan Shan seethes. But despite his retorts, his fingers find the remote buttons as He Tian saunters back to the bathroom, hands in pockets and steps quiet against the creaky floors. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>For a while, there really is nothing interesting on any of the channels. Guan Shan flies past a romcom, an old horror film, a few cartoons, the dreaded news. Nothing catches his attention — and he feels exhaustion coming on quick. He thinks, maybe, of just going to bed. But behind the apartment’s thin walls, he can hear the water running from the faucet. Despite himself, he frowns. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s odd, really. He never thought he could get used to the image of He Tian’s broad frame hunched over his sink in the mornings, or the way He Tian can reach the bowls at the top of the cupboards without going on his toes, or the sight of He Tian’s nape pressed against the twin-sized air mattress on the floor of Guan Shan’s bedroom. He never thought anyone could make his mother laugh as much as he can, or finish puzzles as fast as he can, and he <em>certainly </em>never thought that his mother would spill Guan Shan’s childhood stories to someone she’d only met... once? Twice? He doesn’t keep track. He never had to before. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nevertheless, it’s not nearly enough time to warrant such trust. Such comfort. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan hates it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But in the midst of his lamenting, the faucet shuts off. A few moments later He Tian returns. And when he plops back onto the couch — too close — he smells of mint and vanilla-scented chapstick. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Too aware of his presence and the way his knee almost touches Guan Shan’s, Guan Shan takes a long second to snap back to reality when He Tian asks, “What’s this?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan blinks. On the TV, there’s some kind of documentary playing. A narrator drones over the images of a complex space aircraft, and the camera pans out to show footage of the stars it swims in. As the screen switches to an interview of someone very important-looking in a suit, Guan Shan scowls.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t know. Nothin’s on.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He Tian stretches his arms above his head, long and lithe. “Well,” he says, drawn with a sigh, “if you’re trying to put me to sleep, it might actually work.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Fuck off, I don’t control the damn stations,” Guan Shan bites. “And you shouldn’t be tired to begin with. You did jack shit today, just like every other day.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He Tian looks at him, the corners of his eyes softened with drowsiness in a way that Guan Shan has become used to seeing. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s not true,” He Tian says. “I went with you to pick up supplies so your mom can sew masks. And we went to get the mail downstairs. And I helped you go grocery shopping—“</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You fuckin’ stood there with the cart and <em>didn’t help at all—“</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>“—and</em> I chopped the onions and peppers for dinner. That’s a lot. I’m exhausted.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s a normal person’s <em>life,”</em> Guan Shan says, exasperated. “Honestly, what the hell did you do all your life until quarantine?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He Tian seems to take a moment to genuinely think about his answer. “Homework,” he offers, brows a bit pulled. “Basketball. School, obviously. I usually go to the convenience store for dinner, but sometimes I’ll get takeout. And I don’t get mail, but my groceries get delivered to me, so.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And then he looks at Guan Shan, almost as if expecting some kind of praising reaction — but Guan Shan can only <em>stare. </em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s ridiculous,” Guan Shan says after a long moment. “That’s ridiculous <em>and </em>fuckin’ miserable. You live like a robot, and a broken one at that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Silence. Then He Tian sits up a little straighter, as if a puppetmaster had pulled on his strings.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I mean, I used to take piano lessons,” he says, frowning as he rubs at his neck. “And Cheng took me to shooting ranges. And…” A pause. “Camping. Yeah, we went camping some weekends. Went to rivers and fished together all day. I caught a few sometimes.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan blinks. “What, are you tryin’ to prove somethin’ to me right now?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And He Tian shrugs. “Maybe.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The answer takes Guan Shan by surprise. But He Tian’s face is neutral — expression always so put together — and Guan Shan wonders if maybe He Tian is lying to him. Building up some kind of persona again just to tear it down later. Because, surely, with that much fucking money and privilege, the guy doesn’t just sit there in that empty apartment all day and twiddle his thumbs. Surely, with his reputation, he has a regular posse of socialites always seeking him out and inviting him to some kind of get-together or event. <em>Surely, </em>considering all that he is, He Tian doesn’t waste his time looking for, or teasing, or protecting, or calling up—</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Guan Shan?” He Tian says, mouth a little twisted. “You still awake?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The low rambling of the space documentary suddenly seems louder. Guan Shan swallows, once, then forces himself to look away. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You make no fuckin’ sense to me,” Guan Shan mutters. Then: “When are you leavin’?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Ouch,” He Tian remarks in an empty but unsurprised tone, shifting back on the couch. After a moment, he shrugs and responds, “Depends. Your text said a week but your mom says forever.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A scowl. “She didn’t fuckin’ say that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He Tian smiles. “No, she didn’t. But she <em>did</em> say as long as I wanted — which, really, isn’t that much different from forever.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan swallows; feels inexplicable heat crawl up his neck like a spider, and he clenches his jaw against it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You should go live with your own family,” he says, staring ahead. “I’m sure they’ve got all the time in the world to shower you with attention.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Out of the corner of his eye, he sees He Tian smirk. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“If I didn’t want to live with them at the best of times, what makes you think I would want to live with them at the worst of times?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan considers that. “This… isn’t the worst of times.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“There’s a pandemic with no cure killing hundreds of people every day,” He Tian says, bland. “School is practically cancelled. People aren’t going to work. You invited me over to your home,<em> unprompted.</em> Even <em>I</em> know, with all things considered, that these are pretty bad times.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan can’t argue that. Instead he stares at the television, watching an astronomer point out weird symbols on some kind of map. It takes a lot of concentration to focus on nothing. After all, if he shifts his gaze any more to the right, he’ll see He Tian. If he lets his eyes slide down any further, he’ll see the way He Tian’s knee is still too close to his own. Both are dangerous territories for dangerous thoughts, and he doesn’t want anything to do with either. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After a moment of silence, Guan Shan says, “You know, you should get friends. <em>Real</em> friends, and not your fuckin’ fangirl group.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He Tian raises a brow. “I have you and Jian Yi and Zhan Zheng Xi.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s not—” And then Guan Shan stops, frowning, because he’s not actually sure what their ragtag mess of a group <em>isn’t. </em>Instead, he swallows and pathetically hides behind: “I’m not your fuckin’ friend.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s the wrong thing to say. Or, maybe, it’s exactly what He Tian thought what he’d say. Guan Shan isn’t sure; he’s never fuckin’ sure when it comes to him. But it doesn’t stop him from tensing up when He Tian turns to face him, fully. Wholly. It leaves no escape, and Guan Shan realizes with a sour kind of reluctance that he has no choice but to look back.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No?” He Tian asks, meeting his gaze. “Then, what are you to me?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The way the television’s screen lights up He Tian’s face — it’s like looking at a painting, alone in the museum, at the dusk of day. Blue hues shine through his hair, dim, and his eyes are only bright enough to reflect the silhouette of Guan Shan sitting in front of him. It’s eerie, how the both of them are so undefined in this moment. Maybe, in a way, that’s easier. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan’s voice feels thick when he says, “I’m not answerin’ that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t— need to.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why?” And then: “Overthinking it?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan flares. “What? What the fuck does that— No, I just— I don’t need to answer fuckin’ anything, asshole. I… I owe you jack shit.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Silence responds to him. He Tian watches him; studies him. Guan Shan feels like a specimen under his gaze, split apart layer by layer under the microscope. He feels like, somewhere, something in him is splintering. And He Tian is watching it happen. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t <em>have</em> a fuckin’ answer,” Guan Shan admits, sudden, like a sinner in a confession booth, heavy and quiet and raspy. “Okay? I told you, you don’t make any goddamn sense to me. You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for my ma.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He Tian soaks that in, almost as thoroughly as he takes in the sight of Guan Shan’s flushed scowl. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You didn’t want me here?” he says, teasing.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>“No,</em> dipshit. Every time you’ve been here hasn’t been because I <em>asked</em> you to be.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He Tian smirks. “Ouch,” he says again, except this time it’s said in a way that pricks Guan Shan like a rose thorn.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan pushes down the heavy feeling in his throat. “I don’t know what you were expectin’,” he says, truthfully. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And then He Tian looks away, rolling his head. There’s a kind of empty look in his eyes that Guan Shan thinks he recognizes, and after a moment he realizes it’s the same look he’s seen in He Cheng’s eyes in the few rare times they’d crossed paths.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I wasn’t expecting a pandemic,” He Tian says. His voice sounds loud in the small room. “I wasn’t expecting school break to get extended. I wasn’t expecting all the restaurants to close, and for all the store’s shelves to be wiped clean.” He runs his tongue along his teeth. “But I guess, for some reason, I <em>was </em>expecting a text from you after weeks of nothing.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It hits Guan Shan, hard and heavy, like a ring-laden fist against his cheek. The last time he’d seen He Tian before all of this mess was a month ago — <em>more</em> — and at the time, none of them had known that this is how it would turn out. How could they? It’d only taken a week for things to turn south, and Guan Shan was too busy worrying of how he and his mom were going to file for unemployment to think of the way his phone had been silent for longer than he’s been used to. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He wants to pull it out right now; check his recent messages. It would be with a sort of disbelief when he would find the timestamp on He Tian’s contact, he already knows. But the shock wouldn’t come from his own lack of outreach. No, his perplexity would stem from <em>He Tian, </em>the same person who couldn’t go a single weekend without a conversation about nothing over Facetime back when things were normal. The same person who, apparently, hadn’t messaged him once until Guan Shan texted him that dreadful night five days ago. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Had he been— <em>testing </em>Guan Shan?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I didn’t reach out to anybody else,” Guan Shan hears himself saying. The words taste bitter as they leave his mouth. What is he doing? What does he have to <em>justify?</em> “I... It was weird, those first few days of the lockdown order, and my ma and I— we had a lot goin’ on. It wasn’t— I mean, I haven’t talked to Zheng Xi or Jian Yi this whole time either. I just... don’t have time. Or, I did, but it wasn’t <em>urgent. </em>I— yeah, I barely use my phone anymore, anyway. I’m always at home now so I just... don’t need it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He stops, his tongue feeling thick. He Tian isn’t looking at him, but he knows he’s listening. Somehow, the thought makes it even worse. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What,” He Tian suddenly says, and there’s a curl to his mouth that he can’t seem to help, “are you trying to prove something to me right now?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I—“ Guan Shan flares, teeth clenched and ears hot. “Fuck you. No, I’m not, asshole. I’m actually rescuin’ your damn pride, but apparently you’ve got too fuckin’ much.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, hey,” He Tian says, wrapping his fingers around Guan Shan’s wrist when he makes to get up. “Come on. Don’t make me finish this documentary by myself.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan scowls. “I’m tired. Let go.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Then we can sleep on the couch,” He Tian replies — and then almost as if it were an afterthought: “again.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan warms at the implication of it. “Why the fuck would I do that when my room is around the corner?” he hisses. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He Tian tugs his arm. “Because I’ll follow you anyway since I’ve only got two days left with you and I’m not letting today end like this.” He smiles. “We’re not sleeping yet. I’m selfish.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I could’ve fuckin’ told you that,” Guan Shan mutters, dry. But he relaxes, settling back on the couch, and eventually He Tian lets him go. The skin he had touched feels electric in his absence.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Let’s make popcorn and ride this out,” He Tian says, settling against a throw pillow. His eyes, no longer empty, are content as they drift back to the screen.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Hand in chin, Guan Shan smirks. “We both brushed our teeth already. I’m not doin’ it again.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Tomorrow, then.” He Tian gestures to the TV. “Popcorn and something more interesting than this.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“If you think this is so damn boring, then why are you still here?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“When else will I find an opportunity to spend time with you like this after I leave?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Guan Shan doesn’t respond. After a moment, He Tian huffs. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s when you’re supposed to invite me back over in the future, little Mo,” he says, amused. Guan Shan shoots him a warning look as the documentary goes to a commercial break. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t push your luck,” he snaps. “And don’t try to convince my ma, either.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He Tian hums, shifting, and Guan Shan suppresses a flinch when his knee presses up against his. Warm. “I hadn’t even thought about that. That might be the agenda for tomorrow, now.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sick of you,” Guan Shan growls. And He Tian laughs, like it’s the funniest thing ever, how easily he can get under Guan Shan’s skin and force him to worry about nothing and get him to stay with him to watch shitty television all within the span of twenty minutes. How Guan Shan has managed to survive more than three days is an incredible feat. How he’s unable to chase away the thought of inviting He Tian over for dinner after he leaves, sometimes, is an inexplicable one. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And when the documentary comes back on with a cheap intro jingle and the streaming quality of a disposable camera, Guan Shan feels He Tian’s foot hook against his and tries to convince himself, over and over:</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank you for reading!</p>
<p>feedback would mean the world :)</p>
<p>find me on <a href="https://nightfayre.tumblr.com">tumblr!</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. a lesson in protection</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><b>chapter tags:</b> tianshan, rated T, established relationship, aftercare (nonsexual), training lessons, hand-to-hand combat (nonviolent), kissing, so much sexual tension ohmygod</p><p><b>prompt:</b> He Tian teaches Guan Shan some hand-to-hand combat skills.</p><p>this chapter is dedicated to Elaine @LumCheng on AO3 / @19elaine on tumblr!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Tonight, it rains. </p><p>It starts as a low rumble across the city. Distant lightning flashes through the darkened clouds like morse code. There’s a quiet howl of wind that pushes up against the apartment’s windows, making the glass cold to the touch. As Guan Shan finishes wiping down the kitchen counters with a wet cloth, there’s the faintest pattering of rain that seems to murmur to him as he checks the microwave’s time. </p><p>11:42pm. He Tian had said he’d be done by ten, but Guan Shan has learned to take his word with a grain of salt. The skepticism allows him to avoid disappointment where he can, but it’s hard to resist checking his phone every ten minutes on nights like this, waiting for that blue bubble to say, <em>on my way</em> or <em>job’s done</em> or, even better: <em>I’m still fucking alive.</em> </p><p>Guan Shan puts away dinner leftovers; sets the thermometer a few degrees higher. He’s lounging on the couch when midnight hits. There’s nothing really interesting to watch on TV, and he spends more time flipping through channels than he does actually watching them. Eventually he settles for the local news, where they talk of ‘Good News of the Week’ because, apparently, positivity is so sparse that it takes until the end of each week to scrape together a fifteen minute feature for their late night audience. Ironically, the thought makes him feel worse. </p><p>Outside, the rain has picked up to a heavy downpour, drumming against the thick glass of the full-wall windows. When he looks up, he can see the water streaks flowing in rivulets, breaking off and coming back together again like a woven basket. The sight — and the sound — would be relaxing if it weren’t for the fact that it’s been two hours and he’s still the only one in He Tian’s apartment. </p><p>Some days he wonders just what the hell he was expecting when he agreed to be a part of He Tian’s life. He knew it wasn’t going to be normal. He knew he’d probably give more than he received. But the reality of it tastes more bitter when he’s actually <em>experiencing</em> it, and those days of questioning are tiring and helpless. Today is one of those days. </p><p>But just as he’s about to glance at his phone again, the front door opens. </p><p>Guan Shan sits up. Around the corner, he can hear shuffling in the doorway; wet shoes being pulled off and rain-damp clothes rubbing together. He can’t see him, but he knows He Tian’s routine. But there’s no words, no greetings, and Guan Shan thinks he might’ve forgotten to tell He Tian that he was coming over tonight. He throws an arm over the back of the couch, opens his mouth—</p><p>And freezes. </p><p>“What the fuck,” Guan Shan breathes in place of a hello, already pushing to his feet. Across the floor, wet with rain and something else, He Tian looks back at him, paused mid-stride. </p><p>“Guan Shan,” He Tian says, voice a bit hoarse. Blood drips from his forehead like watercolor. “Why are you here?”</p><p>Guan Shan ignores the question. “What the <em>fuck</em> happened to you?” he says, terse, closing the space between them. Already, a puddle has begun to form around He Tian’s feet, but Guan Shan is more concerned about how the collar of He Tian’s shirt is stained red and how a blooming bruise extends from his cheek to his jaw. Anger spikes through Guan Shan, poisonous. “Are you <em>shittin’</em> me?”</p><p>“The discussion went south, and the client was… belligerent,” He Tian explains through a cut upper lip, letting Guan Shan poke and prod angrily at him. “Reminded me of you, actually. No red hair, though. A shame.”</p><p>“Shut the fuck up,” Guan Shan snaps. He grabs him by the forearm because He Tian’s knuckles are split and bloody and leads him toward the kitchen. He Tian goes willingly, favoring his left side, and he sits in a stool at the island as Guan Shan wets the end of a towel, scowling. </p><p>“Any cuts?” he demands to know, grabbing a plastic baggie from the pantry for ice. “Bullets? Fractures?”</p><p>And the way He Tian looks at him — it’s with a smile. Tired, but present, and ever so amused. “No, sweetheart,” he assures, tilting his head for easy access when Guan Shan returns to his side, pressing the ice to his face while the other hand dabs away a stream of blood with the cloth. “I was just a temporary punching bag. Nothing serious.”</p><p>“Take off your shirt,” Guan Shan orders, jaw tight. He pulls away as He Tian complies and asks, “Did you not fuckin’ fight <em>back?</em> You look like you got the <em>shit</em> beat out of you.”</p><p>Letting the clothing hit the floor wetly, He Tian says, “As perfect as you think I am, even I can get scratched sometimes.” He smirks. “Would it make you feel better if I said you should’ve seen the other guy?”</p><p>“It would make me feel better if you didn’t come home like this <em>at all,”</em> Guan Shan growls. “I don’t give a flyin’ fuck about the other guy.”</p><p>“Aw,” He Tian coos, touched, but is quickly shut up with a wince as Guan Shan presses the ice pack just a little too hard against his jaw. He holds it there when Guan Shan orders him to, and stays still as Guan Shan sweeps back his fringe and cleans away sweat and dried blood from the cut above his eyebrow. </p><p>“You know what this reminds me of?” He Tian says, a bit wistful. Guan Shan gives him a look. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“This.” He Tian lifts his hand, and Guan Shan looks down at the faint scar stretched across his palm, raised skin and slightly reddened outline. Unlike He Tian’s satisfied smirk, the scar doesn’t bring back good memories for Guan Shan, and he presses his lips together as he looks away. </p><p>“I… yeah,” Guan Shan mutters, not knowing what else to say. He moves the cloth down to the small gash on He Tian’s clavicle and continues, “I haven’t seen you like this in a long fuckin’ time.”</p><p>He Tian huffs. “That’s probably for the best — for you <em>and </em>me. My father would’ve put me back in training if I kept getting my ass handed to me, even back then.”</p><p>Despite himself, something about the statement makes Guan Shan pause in his motions. He steps back a bit — takes in the roughed state of the man in front of him. And, really, he shouldn’t be surprised because it makes <em>sense,</em> but:</p><p>“You had trainin’?”</p><p>He Tian gives him an odd look, as if he’s just as confused by Guan Shan’s shock as Guan Shan himself is. </p><p>“Since I could walk,” He Tian tells him, fingers wrinkling the condensating ice pack. “Combat training, defense training. Broad stuff. My father had this guy come in every weekend; never even learned his name after all those years, now that I think of it. Just called him ‘sir’ as he kicked my ass and called it coaching.”</p><p>At the image of a man wiping the floor with a younger He Tian’s body, Guan Shan smirks. “I’m sure you took that well.”</p><p>“I didn’t,” He Tian assures him, and there’s a hint of dry amusement in his voice coupled with a sour nostalgia. “I’m sure that’s why my father kept him around instead of a real trainer. I learned shit I probably shouldn’t have at ten years old, but it’s kept me alive until now.”</p><p>“I’m startin’ to think ‘alive’ isn’t good enough,” Guan Shan gripes, turning on his heel to clean and rewet the towel. Memories of a late-night sprint through the city alleyways and the shouts of angry men behind them echo in his head, but he chases them away. Left alone in the stool, He Tian raises his brows. </p><p>“Are you doubting my combat skills, little Mo?”</p><p>“I’m doubtin’ their <em>legitimacy,”</em> Guan Shan corrects. Watching the water run red in the sink, he adds, “The less scars, the better the fighter. And you’re making a fuckin’ canvas of yourself, so if the shoe fits…”</p><p>A pause. Then there’s a scratch of metal against wood, and Guan Shan looks up from the faucet to find He Tian standing on the other side of the island, rolling out his neck. The ice pack lays abandoned on the stool. </p><p>For a moment there’s only the sound of the running tap, and then Guan Shan says, “What the fuck are you doin’?”</p><p>“C’mon,” He Tian says with a jerk of his chin, waving him over. The look in his eye is devilish and taunting, and he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Let’s test the ‘legitimacy’.”</p><p>“Are you—” A pause, then Guan Shan shuts off the water, hands pressed flat on the counter as he regards He Tian wildly. “Do I need to take you to urgent care? Did you dent your damn skull?”</p><p>He Tian gestures to himself, careless and fleeting. “What you see is the extent of my injuries, sweetheart. Now come on. Humor me so I can prove you wrong.”</p><p>“I’m not fuckin’ <em>fightin’</em> someone who’s <em>injured,</em> dumbass!” Guan Shan exclaims, bewildered. “Sorry if your damn <em>pride</em> is hurt, but we’ve got better fuckin’ things to do right now than wrestle. Now sit down and shut up so I can—“</p><p>“Make me,” He Tian challenges, low.</p><p>Suddenly, the space between them is electric. Guan Shan feels it in the spike of his pulse, and He Tian smiles like he <em>knows. </em></p><p>“Afraid I’ll still beat you, even like this?” He Tian asks, watching as Guan Shan wrings out the towel, silent. “Speaking of pride, I thought you had a little more than what you’re letting on.”</p><p>Guan Shan lays the towel out to dry, wiping his hands on the sides of his joggers. Coming around the corner of the island, he looks up. “I do.”</p><p>The edge of He Tian’s mouth curls. “I’m glad.”</p><p>“I’m not hurtin’ you, asshole, even though I want to,” Guan Shan says, spreading his feet into a wider stance. Unconscious, He Tian does the same. “I’m provin’ a point.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“First one to land a touch, and then we stop and you sit your ass in the chair.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>He Tian sounds nonchalant, like there isn’t dried blood on his knuckles and swollen skin around his eye. It ticks Guan Shan off — and it’s his focus on the small knick on He Tian’s temple that Guan Shan must’ve missed earlier that almost makes him catch a fist to the cheek, and he barely dodges it by the skin of his teeth. </p><p>“What’s that look for, sweetheart?” He Tian asks, smile sweet and goading. “I thought you said first one to land a touch wins. Having second thoughts?”</p><p>“Oh, you <em>asshole,”</em> Guan Shan gripes, and he steps forward with new resolve. </p><p>His body rolls with the momentum it takes to swing his arm forward, and it only occurs to him then that a bare fist fight is something he hasn’t done in a while. The sting of He Tian’s forearm against his rattles his bones, and the block is swiftly followed by the innocuous sweep of a foot that Guan Shan easily sidesteps. </p><p>The adrenaline comes to him then; a distant but familiar thing, like the outline of mountains in the morning fog. He sees He Tian’s head jerk to avoid an uppercut that comes more easily, but not too fast, and Guan Shan shuffles around him to deter the swing of an elbow aimed at his chest. He rewards the effort with a low-aimed strike, of which He Tian contorts away from with a breathless agility that hasn’t left him since childhood. </p><p>And, really, it’s nothing like the scuffles Guan Shan often found himself in during middle school, but it’s everything he remembers them being. Like <em>this,</em> it’s a dance — one step forward and one step back, leaning with the movement and jolting against any break in rhythm. It’s a clash of culture: formalities against dirty moves, private tutors put up against street smarts. But it works, and it’s <em>them,</em> and they’re in the middle of the apartment now, squared up, breathing a bit labored, a graze of skin against skin having been the only contact between them thus far. </p><p>Tongue running over his teeth, eyes shining like a predator’s, He Tian smiles. </p><p>“I could take you out right now.”</p><p>Jaw working, Guan Shan sniffs and says, “Like hell you can.”</p><p>“Yeah?” He Tian says. And Guan Shan has no time to retort because He Tian closes the distance between them in one ample step, invading his protective space. Guan Shan cracks backwards to avoid the wild swing of He Tian’s fist, stepping back against his better judgment. He Tian wastes no time in taking advantage of the staggered position. He hooks his arm through Guan Shan’s and <em>pulls,</em> swinging Guan Shan around and forcing him forwards, arm raised and trapped behind his back just before the point of pain — and Guan Shan groans. </p><p>“Yeah,” He Tian says now, breath hot at Guan Shan’s back, fingers gripping his captured wrist, “I think I can.”</p><p><em>“Fuck you,</em>” Guan Shan forces out in his hunched position. He Tian lets him go after that, satisfied, and Guan Shan turns to face him with a scowl while rolling out his manhandled shoulder. </p><p>“You have to keep your stance wider, and put your weight forward,” He Tian tells him, demonstrating. “And keep your arms more staggered; one for defense and the other to strike.”</p><p>Guan Shan scoffs, a bitter taste in his mouth. “I didn’t do this to be given <em>lessons.”</em></p><p>“Really?” He Tian asks, eyeing him. “Because it looks like you could use some, sweetheart.”</p><p>A dangerous look. “Nothin’ you could tell me would be worth the time.”</p><p>“Yeah? Three lessons and I’ll be a good patient for the rest of the night.”</p><p>The offer is simple but tempting, and Guan Shan can tell by the look on He Tian’s face that he means it, too. A rare occurrence. For as long as Guan Shan can remember, He Tian always hated receiving care, whether it be for a papercut or a knife splicing the skin of his palm. </p><p>“It’s fine,” he’d say every time, bland. “I’m still alive, aren’t I?”</p><p>And Guan Shan would get pissed because that’s not the fucking <em>point.</em> Even tonight, He Tian’s indifference is borderline infuriating, and Guan Shan knows that He Tian is picking up on the warning signs. By this lame proposal, he’s hoping to meet Guan Shan halfway. </p><p>“Fine,” Guan Shan growls. He drops into a passive stance, then throws He Tian a look, expecting. </p><p>“Like I said,” He Tian starts, jerking his chin to Guan Shan’s feet, “wider, staggered stance. <em>Wider.</em> There. And don’t be so flat on your feet, either. Technically you’re an easy target just by being still right now, so don’t make it any worse.”</p><p>Scowling, Guan Shan says, “That’s one lesson.”</p><p>He Tian huffs. He settles into a mirrored stance in front of him, and extends his arm, pushing out his palm. </p><p>“Lesson two, then. There’s more power and push in a palm strike than a fist sometimes. Even better: your elbow. I mean, you can still use your fist, but.” He shows the back of his hand, the split skin of his knuckles an angry red and likely going to burn like hell in the shower. “Not worth it, half the time.”</p><p>With that, He Tian relaxes back. He shakes out his shoulders and then says: “Lesson three. Hit me.”</p><p>Guan Shan blinks. “What?”</p><p>“Hit me. As fast and hard as you can, right in the stomach. I’ll dodge it.”</p><p>There’s an unsettled feeling in Guan Shan’s chest, but he meets He Tian’s eyes once for confirmation before reeling back. He does as He Tian instructed: a pretty blow aimed for the center of his stomach, just below the ribcage, steady and sure. It happens quick and powerful, a viper’s strike, all his power put into it — and Guan Shan’s eyes go wide when the flat of his knuckles meet the skin and muscle of He Tian’s torso, unrelenting and bruising. The man crumples at the waist on impact, breath stolen. </p><p><em>“He Tian—”</em> Guan Shan starts, stumbling forward.</p><p>“Christ,” He Tian breathes, a bit wheezy. He’d held his ground, not moving in the slightest, and Guan Shan is waved away when he tries to help. “That’s… lesson three. Lean into every attack you can’t dodge, and it’ll take off the impact while forcing your opponent off balance — like you just were. And when they invade your space, you counter them with a hard stomp on their instep. It’ll immobilize them long enough to gain the upper hand.”</p><p>“Okay,” Guan Shan bites, impatient, “that’s enough. Now sit down and—”</p><p>“How could there be lessons if you’re not quizzed on what you just learned?” He Tian asks, straightening.</p><p>Guan Shan feels exasperated. “He Tian, you’re being fuckin’ irrational.”</p><p>“And you’re dating a man who oversees a company that threatens businesses, ruins lives, and breaks contracts for a living,” He Tian retorts, low. “I want you to be prepared no matter what. Call me paranoid.”</p><p>“You’re fuckin’ paranoid,” Guan Shan responds immediately, throat a bit tighter than before. “We’ve gone all this time without a single problem. People aren’t that fuckin’ stupid to mess with your family. And if somethin’ <em>were</em> to happen — which it won’t — I can figure it out, dumbass.”</p><p>“Then humor me,” He Tian says again, determined, putting space between them. “Just a small something; nothing violent. I just want proof.” He pauses and adds: “And I’m telling the truth this time.”</p><p>Despite himself, Guan Shan’s fingers itch against his palm. Admittedly there are many times he wishes he could just smack the shit out of He Tian — as he does in this moment — but not like this. Right now, all he wants is for He Tian to <em>shower</em> and scrub away the blood in his clothes and sit on the couch as Guan Shan applies anti-bacterial and ice. Right now, he wants He Tian to act like his body is more than just a vessel and something left to fend for itself.</p><p>But right now, all <em>He Tian</em> wants is for Guan Shan to prove something entirely meaningless to the both of them, just for the sake of his conscience. He wants it in the form of powered fists, swung to shatter the illusion he’s created for himself, unspoken all this time but, apparently, weighing heavily on his mind. </p><p>So Guan Shan delivers.</p><p>“Good,” He Tian says, rebounding Guan Shan’s heavy swing with a swipe of his own arm. “Stay balanced, so that when I do <em>this—”</em></p><p>Guan Shan leans to avoid a well-aimed strike, shifting his weight from the balls of his feet with ease. </p><p>“—you can be prepared,” He Tian finishes with an approving smile, rushing Guan Shan’s bloodstream — and they fall into the dance from there. </p><p>Guan Shan finds it hard to catch his breath between every pivot, every duck, every shift of his momentum, gravity playing to his favor. Instinct comes back to him like a bear woken from hibernation, and he does what he knows: a foot hooked against He Tian’s, calculated jabs from his elbow, kneecaps shot upwards to gain space when they become too familiar with being close. </p><p>He Tian counters every offensive move with one of his own, a sheen of sweat building, moving deftly on the balls of his feet. He’s everything Guan Shan only ever watched from afar; lithe yet athletic, stark power packed equally in jerked dodges and, once, a swift outstretch of his leg. </p><p>Guan Shan can feel He Tian’s breath hot on his face as they move in and out, like tides, crashing against the shore and pulling back to witness the damage. Sweat prickles at his forehead as He Tian periodically nods, assesses. </p><p>“Wider stance,” he’ll say, pushing Guan Shan back to make a point, only for Guan Shan to come back in. “Raise your elbows. Good. Quicker. Defend your core. Balance your weight. Good.”</p><p>And Guan Shan doesn’t respond, too much focus, too much energy, put into anticipating He Tian’s retaliations, because just as quickly as He Tian issues instructions, he’s following them up with blows Guan Shan only has a split second to evade. Soon enough his shortcut hair is sticking to the skin along his hairline, and the pulse of blood whispers in his ears, and his fists feel sore and his arms heavy from swinging and his legs from darting about and he takes a moment to think, just a moment:</p><p>
  <em>Fuck, he’s good. </em>
</p><p>It’s an indisputable realization; one that, if Guan Shan is being honest, he already suspected long ago. He shakes it off. The city lights beyond the windows only appear as streaks as Guan Shan swings around He Tian, making use of his elbow as he goes, squarely aimed at his neck—</p><p>He Tian catches it, but this time <em>holds,</em> yanking Guan Shan backwards in a bruising grip. Guan Shan’s breath gets caught as he stumbles, helpless, his heartbeat wild because he knows this is the ideal drive to bring the spar to the floor, He Tian having gained the upper hand and, if this were the real deal, finishing the job. Unconscious, Guan Shan’s eyes squeeze shut — but before he feels the hard impact of the ground against his spine, he feels the wide plane of He Tian’s hands pressed against his back and wrapped around his bicep, grounding. The breathless slam against the floorboards never comes, and Guan Shan looks up in heavy exhales. </p><p>He Tian, surprisingly, has broken into a similar sweat. His bangs clump around his eyes, which glitter darkly, and his breathing comes in staccato puffs as he holds Guan Shan up.</p><p><em>It’s because he’s already hurt,</em> Guan Shan tells himself. <em>He’s overworked himself. </em></p><p>“Good,” He Tian tells him through heavy breaths, stepping back to pull Guan Shan upright. Releasing him, He Tian pulls his damp hair back with a hand and says, “I think you’d be just fine if you were abducted.”</p><p>Wiping away the sweat above his lip, Guan Shan mutters, “Wouldn’t that be somethin’. The damsel in distress handlin’ their own damn rescue.”</p><p>“A shame. I would’ve loved to ride in on a white horse to save you.”</p><p>Guan Shan scoffs, then looks at him. He’s a fucking mess. Hair tousled, sweaty and bloodied, bare chest rising and falling with effort, skin paler than before. This was stupid, but it was nothing less than what Guan Shan expects of them. He watches as He Tian goes to swipe away a bead of sweat from his neck, then hisses quietly as the salty moisture of his hand contacts his cut. </p><p>“A deal’s a deal,” He Tian says when he notices the look on Guan Shan’s face. “I’ll be a star patient for you, little Mo.”</p><p>“Fuckin’ idiot,” Guan Shan mutters. Then adrenaline rushes and he closes the small distance between them in one fair stride and pulls him down by the nape. </p><p>The kiss is small and tastes faintly of blood and salt, breathless and fleeting, and their skin sticks together when He Tian slips a hand under his shirt to rest on his waist. They indulge in it longer than intended; tired muscles relaxing against one another, heavy-breathing chests pressed together. Guan Shan can feel the thrumming pulse in He Tian’s neck, but he can’t be sure whether it’s from the impromptu exercise or the way Guan Shan bites at He Tian’s bottom lip, soft, before pulling back. </p><p>“Take a shower,” he demands against He Tian’s mouth, a bit breathless. “Leave your clothes outside the door. And don’t use up all the hot water or I’ll kill you.”</p><p>He Tian leans to smile into his cheek, pressing small kisses to his jawline. “Or we can shower together and put all the hot water to use.”</p><p>Guan Shan swallows. “Do as I fuckin’ say and I’ll consider it,” he mutters. </p><p>He Tian laughs. Draws the lobe of Guan Shan’s ear between his teeth. “My pleasure, sweetheart.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank you for reading!</p><p>feedback would mean the world :)</p><p>as of now, this is the last prompt I fulfilled for this fundraiser. although requests are now temporarily closed, if you would like to request a fic in the future, please keep an eye on my <a href="https://nightfayre.tumblr.com">tumblr</a> for updates!</p><p> </p><p>  <b>Black Lives Matter! Donate, petition, &amp; protest!</b></p>
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